There was no light.
There was only weight. Pressure. Cold.
And dirt.
He couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. Couldn't think straight. He didn't even know if he was dreaming. But something pulled at him. A sharp instinct. A voice buried deep in the marrow of his bones, screaming—
Move.
His fingers twitched.
Pain. So much pain. The kind that wasn't just physical. His chest burned like it had been run through by a blade. His ribs trembled with every shallow breath, air so thin he wasn't sure if he was actually breathing at all. Earth pressed against his eyelids. Coarse. Damp. Heavy.
"Wh... what...?"
He didn't know his own voice. It rasped like wind dragging across stone. Still, hearing it sparked a jolt in his foggy mind.
He wasn't dead.
Or—if he was—hell had terrible landscaping.
He reached up. His fingers scraped into wood above. Then dirt. Compact. Soggy.
Realization struck like thunder.
He'd been buried.
Something primal roared inside him. A survival instinct. No training. No logic. Just panic. The kind only the forgotten dead could understand.
He clawed upward. Nails bent. Fingers bled. Mud filled his mouth when he gasped. Soil fought him like it didn't want to let go. But he screamed. Pushed harder. Fought like a cornered beast. He didn't care if his bones shattered.
He had to get out.
Minutes felt like hours. And then—
Air.
Light.
Or something like it.
His hand burst through the earth's crust, cold wind kissing his skin. He coughed violently, dragging in gulps of oxygen. It burned. Sweet and bitter at the same time.
He pulled himself out inch by inch. Every movement carved pain into his limbs. But the will to live was stronger. And finally—he tumbled onto the grass, his body sprawled like a corpse thrown from a grave.
He lay still.
Soaked. Shaking. Staring up at a sky he didn't recognize.
Twin moons glowed overhead, shrouded by strange clouds that swirled like ink in water. Stars blinked in unfamiliar patterns. The trees around him were not ones he knew—tall, bone-white, with bark that shimmered faintly under the moonlight.
He blinked.
"I... I'm alive?"
His voice was a whisper. Not from weakness. From awe.
Because the last thing he remembered... was death.
His breath hitched. A memory slashed through the haze.
The battlefield.
A horse's scream.
His comrade's face—a smile that didn't belong there.
The blade in his side.
His own blood soaking the grass.
Betrayal.
He clenched his jaw.
Why? Why had that bastard done it? They were supposed to fight together. He had trusted him. Protected him.
And now—this?
Buried? Alone? In a land with two moons?
"What the hell is going on…"
And then came the voice.
Soft. Mechanical. Calm.
But not human.
[System Activation Complete.] [Welcome, Summoner.]
He sat up too fast. Pain shot through his spine.
"What… was that?" he muttered.
The voice didn't answer. Instead, it filled his mind again, cold and neutral.
[You have awakened in the vessel of the Last Summoner.] [Rebooting Core Memory... Access Denied.] [Establishing Host Connection... Complete.]
He froze.
"Summoner? What are you talking about? What system?"
His heart beat faster. But not from fear—from confusion. Curiosity. The nerd in him, buried under panic and dirt, was finally waking up.
He wiped soil from his eyes, glanced down at his hands.
They weren't... his.
Slimmer. Paler. Fingers longer. Scarred in a way his old hands never were. His arms were thinner—less muscle. His chest wasn't the same either. Not his body.
His gaze shifted to a puddle nearby, reflecting a broken image of his face.
Different.
Handsome. Too handsome.
High cheekbones. Eyes sharp like daggers, glowing faintly silver in the moonlight. Medium-length black hair, wet and clinging to a face that looked like it belonged on some noble's painting.
That wasn't him.
He touched his cheek. It felt real.
"What… is this?" he whispered.
The system answered.
[Host has been reborn in the body of the Last Legendary Summoner. Year of Death: 999 Before Collapse.] [Current Year: Unknown. Location: The Forgotten Continent.]
"The... what now?"
He rubbed his temples. The pain didn't fade. The system sounded like a game—but too detailed. Too direct. Like it wasn't meant for anyone else to hear.
His eyes darted to the forest around him. Not a single creature stirred. The silence was deafening.
He stood slowly, knees buckling under the effort.
He was tall now. Or maybe it just felt like it. His balance was off, like his body hadn't yet caught up with his mind. Every step was cautious. Measured. The way a newborn deer might walk.
This wasn't home.
This wasn't the battlefield.
This wasn't even the same world.
A slow panic bloomed in his chest. But he forced it down. He needed answers, not emotions.
"System," he muttered again. "What are you? Some kind of voice in my head?"
[This System is unique to the Host. Features include: Summoning, Evolution, Inventory, Skill Tree, Almanac, Quest Log, and Stat Interface.] [Would you like to open your Status?]
He blinked.
"You're kidding," he said flatly.
No response.
He sighed. "Fine. Status."
[Opening Status Panel.]
A glowing screen appeared before his eyes, hovering like a ghost. It wasn't real, but it felt solid. Sharp lines, clean interface. Almost too clean.
[STATUS – The Last Summoner]
Name: ???
Race: Human
Class: Summoner (Legendary – Sealed)
Level: 1
Mana: 20/20
Strength: 4
Agility: 5
Intelligence: 7
Vitality: 3
Luck: 1
Available Points: 0
Skills: None
Summons: None
Inventory: Empty
"No name?" he said. "That's insulting."
[Host name not found. Prior identity erased upon transfer.]
He scowled. "Great. So I don't even get to keep my own name? What am I supposed to call myself, 'Dirtboy' now?"
The wind rustled the grass like it was laughing at him.
He paced in circles, breathing slowly. Trying to think.
Okay. Let's summarize.
He died. Got betrayed. Woke up buried alive. Different body. Different world. Got a system in his head. Two moons. No clue what year it was. And apparently, he was in the body of the "Last Legendary Summoner," whatever that meant.
The only part that didn't surprise him?
That his luck stat was 1.
"Figures," he muttered.
Still—something strange buzzed inside him. A feeling he couldn't shake. Not fear. Not confusion. Something else.
Opportunity.
He looked up at the sky again. At those unfamiliar stars.
This wasn't home.
But maybe that was a good thing.
"Alright," he said to no one. "I don't know where I am. I don't know why I'm here. But I'm going to figure it out. And if there's even a chance I can find the one who stabbed me—"
His voice darkened.
"I'll make sure they regret it."
The system chimed again.
[New Quest Received: "First Step of the Forgotten"] Objective: Survive the night. Reward: +1 Stat Point, Basic Summon Ticket
He stared at the message.
"A summon ticket? What is this, a gacha game?"
But the reward wasn't what caught his attention.
It was the objective.
Survive.
He turned slowly.
The forest behind him shifted. Something was moving.
Tall grass parted.
Eyes gleamed in the dark. Low. Predatory. More than one pair.
He backed up instinctively. The forest no longer felt quiet—it felt like a cage. And something inside it had just noticed the new visitor.
"No weapon. No skills. No idea what I'm doing…"
He swallowed hard.
"Great start."
But even as fear curled its claws around his chest, he forced himself to stand straighter.
He was weak now.
But he wouldn't stay that way.
Not this time.